


Music and Art

by shellygurumi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Artist!Dean, M/M, Musician!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellygurumi/pseuds/shellygurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean moves into his dorm and finds that his new roommate is actually a pretty cool guy. Cas is into music, plays guitar and though he can't cook, he's more than willing to pose for Dean when he gets an assignment to draw a person. Dean certainly doesn't mind the excuse to stare at Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music and Art

**Moving Day.**

The guy Dean was sharing his dorm with was already there when Dean showed up with his dufflebag and single box of belongings to move in. They both had their own bedrooms and shared a bathroom, living room and kitchen. As dorms went, it was pretty nice, and though Dean had no idea what this guy he was going to be spending the next year living with was like, he was fairly optimistic. Worst case scenario, he spends the whole year in his bedroom to avoid the guy.

Dean went straight to his room to drop off his stuff on the bed and then wandered out into the living room to introduce himself. He must have alerted his roommate to his presence, because the man walked out of his bedroom and waved vaguely. He was tall, had messy dark hair, just a hint of scruff on his chin. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly deep, “Hi, I’m Castiel.”

"Castiel? Hey, I’m Dean…" He stepped forward and held out a hand to shake Castiel’s hand. 

Leaning in, he took Dean’s hand and shook his, firm and solid, and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

"Likewise." He pulled back his hand and cleared his throat. "So. All moved in?"

"More or less, I’m just putting up posters now." Castiel thumbed back over his shoulder.

"Yeah? What kind? Movie or music? Or models?" Dean shot him a grin and Castiel chuckled.

”Music.” He stepped back into his room and Dean followed. Castiel’s room was sparsely decorated, as far as objects went, it was just his bed and desk and computer for the most part. But his walls were becoming quickly covered with band posters. He had the classic picture of Jim Morrison as well as a very 60s looking poster of a playbill for The Doors. A poster of Jimi Hendrix posing with his guitar and another with a collection of the members of Led Zeppelin standing around in front of a plane with the band’s name printed on it.

"Dude. Yes. Nice." Dean nodded, grinning broadly. He was going to get along with this guy just fine. At least, as far as musical tastes went. Turning back to Castiel, he saw the man leaning back against his desk and smiling.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Zep is like, my favorite band ever. Dude, they are awesome."

"They are. You know we will see about 20 kids a day wearing the US ‘77 tour shirt knock off."

"From Swan Song? Yeah, I bet none of them could name more than like 2 songs by Zep." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Stairway to Heaven and Kashmir." Castiel shook his head.

"Right!" Dean couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re pretty cool."

"Thank you." There was a beat of silence between them, then Castiel asked, "Need any help moving in?"

"Nah, I’m good. I don’t have too much, but thanks. I should probably get going on that."

"Alright."

Dean nodded, then strolled out of Castiel’s room back towards his own. He was feeling hopeful about this year. If nothing else, they probably wouldn’t bother each other with their respective taste in music. 

* * *

**The Night Before Day One.**

Dean and Castiel had fallen into a routine of sorts. Dean had also taken to calling him Cas, which happened very much in the “Cas — mind if I call you Cas?” manner. The other guy didn’t seem to mind at all and even smiled. And that smile was starting to become a problem for Dean. It wasn’t something he noticed at first, but after spending a couple days with Cas, Dean noticed a lot about him.

For one thing, Cas had blue eyes, like really blue eyes. Kind of ridiculously blue. His hair always looked like he just woke up and rolled out of bed. Or just had sex, though Cas didn’t seem to have a girlfriend (or boyfriend). Which, of course, led Dean to the very inappropriate thought of Cas running his hand through his own hair while masturbating which was very dangerous territory.

There were two things Dean did not notice about Cas’s room upon his initial inspection. 1) Cas had a record player and a decent vinyl collection. 2) Cas played guitar. He played guitar very well.

As it turned out, Cas was studying music history and had to do performance to be in the school of music. When he moved in, Dean thought this year with Cas as a roommate would be awesome. Now, he was worried it would turn into a world of sexual frustration. Because the guy just kept getting hotter and hotter.

Classes would start tomorrow, though, and then he could throw himself into studies. Or so he hoped. 

They ate dinner together in the kitchen. In the last few days, another thing Dean learned was that Cas was hopeless at cooking. He had already stocked his share of the kitchen cabinets with microwave dinners, mac n cheese and cup noodles. Dean insisted on cooking for them instead and it was easier to cook a big meal to feed two and have leftovers than it was to cook for just one.

"So," Cas said, before spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. "What do you plan on doing with an art degree?"

"Illustration, hopefully." Dean shrugged. "Not the easiest, I know, but that’s the dream."

"You’re speaking to someone studying music history. I have no room to pass judgement."

Dean laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, guess not.”

"Do you have a portfolio?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not really. I have a sketchbook. It’s not really that great."

"I imagine it would be, to get into the art school." Cas lifted a forkful of the stir fry they were eating. "If you draw anywhere near as good as you cook, it must be." 

Dean laughed and looked away.

"I wouldn’t quite starve if you weren’t my roommate, but I will be eating much better this way."

"Well, good." Dean cleared his throat. "I just like having a kitchen to cook in."

"Did you not before?"

"It was complicated." Dean shrugged. Actually, it was a small miracle he made it to college at all. And he probably should have been getting a more marketable degree, but that was a conversation for another day. If any day.

"Well, I never had occasion to learn to cook." 

"I could always teach you. If you wanted." 

Cas smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

* * *

**Two Weeks Into the Semester.**

Dean got an assignment in one of his art classes. He had to draw a person. It had to be a live model. The task seemed easy enough, but there was one small problem. Dean had found a job on campus, he was taking five classes, which all had tons of homework, was drawing like 12 pictures a week and, effectively, had no social life. The only person he knew well enough to ask to pose for him was Cas.

And that should have been easy. It really should have. He even figured Cas would be okay with it, assuming he had the free time to pose. The only problem was that Dean wasn’t so sure he could ask that of Cas with a straight face.

It only became clearer to Dean over time that he had a huge crush on Cas. This was awkward enough considering the fact that they were roommates and getting into any sort of relationship with someone you live with was just a recipe for disaster. But it became twice as awkward when Cas took to walking around the dorm half dressed, or lounged on the couch in the living room in a pair of boxers picking out tunes on his guitar. 

He played “Ramble On” in nothing but his boxers. With his hair wet from a shower. Dean wasn’t really sure if it was dream or a nightmare, but he was pretty sure he stood there slack-jawed at first. And Cas just tipped his head back to look at him, smiled, said a “hey” and went right back to playing. Dean went quickly to take a shower himself after that.

Now he had to ask the guy if he could stare at him for hours drawing a picture of him. What could go wrong?

First thing that could go wrong was that when Dean got back to the dorm, Cas was in the shower. Bad start. He retreated to his room and waited for the shower to stop running and rehearsed how he would ask Cas for this favor. He wandered around in circles in his room practicing the words and trying to keep from blushing as he said them. Mid-way through the sentence, the water stopped. Dean froze and stared at his closed door. He heard the bathroom door open after a few minutes, heard Cas’s footsteps walking to his room, then his bedroom door squeak as if it was about to shut, but the door never clicked into place.

Dean cracked open his own bedroom door and peeked out across the dorm. Cas’s door was slightly ajar. Giving him a few minutes to dry off and, maybe, put on some clothes, Dean waited. When he heard Cas’s record player spinning one of Cas’s favorite Doors records, Dean figured it was safe to go bug him.

Knocking on the door, Dean poked his head in, “Hey, Cas?”

He was leaning back on his bed, a towel around his shoulders to catch the water dripping off his hair, no shirt on, just a pair of boxers, reading a book. Blue eyes glanced up to Dean, “Yes?”

"So, kind of a strange question… I’ve got this homework for art. I’ve gotta draw someone, gotta be a real person, not just a picture of a person, and I don’t really… know anyone? So like, do you mind, if I … that is, if you’ve got some free time…"

"Sure." He shrugged, easy as that, and closed his book. "Now?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, yeah, if now is good for you?"

"Absolutely. Where do you want me?" Cas sat up, running the towel over his hair a bit before tossing it onto the back of his desk chair.

Dean nearly choked after hearing that question. He covered it with a cough and cleared his throat. “Well, anywhere you’re comfortable, really. And pose any way you want, I’m just… gonna go get my sketchbook.”

With that, Dean escaped, running his hands over his face as he took his time walking to his own room and back. It didn’t really prepare him for the fact that Cas didn’t bother to put on any more clothes, or finding him sitting on the bed running his fingers back through his hair. Dean wouldn’t mind giving that a try himself. But he couldn’t think of that now.

"How should I…" Cas trailed off, looking for the right word. "Pose for you?"

"Yeah, uh, like I said, any way that’s comfortable." He shrugged. "You might have to hold it for a while, so not something you would get tired of."

"Alright…" Cas chuckled. He glanced around at his bed for a moment, then fluffed his pillow and laid down. He moved his arm, the one closest to Dean, up and rested his head on his hand. The other arm draped across his stomach. The leg closer to Dean hung off the edge of the bed, bent at the knee and the other was bent, with his foot planted on the bed. This left his legs practically splayed open, his crotch looking rather inviting. Not that Dean was staring. He quickly moved his eyes up to Cas’s face, which was not improving Dean’s predicament.

Cas wore a lazy smile and what he could only describe as a come-hither look in his eyes. Dean stumbled as he backed up, trying to grab Cas’s desk chair to sit in. To his credit, Cas didn’t laugh at Dean’s obvious fumbling. Dean flipped open his sketchbook, set his pencils on the desk beside him and began sketching. The action worked to calm him down, because while he was concentrating on the work, where he absolutely knew what he was doing, Dean managed to regain his more usual confidence.

He knew how to draw. He concentrated on the lines of Cas’s body, the details, the pose, the anatomy. It was all technical now, rather than just sexual and driving him crazy. Though something strange happened as the image on the paper began to take the form of Castiel. He no longer seemed to be that hot guy with great taste in music who knew how to play guitar. He became beautiful in a way. Cas’s body was more muscled than Dean initially realized. He had a certain casual grace to the way he laid there, relaxed and sure of himself. 

Now that he thought about it, nothing really seemed to fluster Cas. Where Dean would stumble over his words from time to time, Cas was always so composed. He met things he didn’t understand with curiosity and interest, and a stare so deep it was like he was staring into your soul. Dean didn’t even realize he was smiling until Cas spoke.

"That’s a good look on you."

"What is?" Dean looked up from his sketchpad to Cas’s face.

"The look you wear when you’re drawing." 

Dean laughed, “You mean scowling in concentration?”

"I would describe it more as a warm smile, but if you consider that a scowl…"

"Oh…" Dean looked from Cas to his drawing, back, and down again. He shook his head and smiled all the more. "Yeah, guess it was more of a smile. Kinda got carried away with my thoughts."

"What were you thinking about?"

Dean pointedly kept his eyes on the lines his pencil was sketching out. “Art.”

"You’re definitely studying the right subject if art makes you smile like that."

"Guess so," Dean laughed to himself. What he was studying was Cas’s almost naked body, spread out across a bed. He would like to be studying it a little closer.

Dean had to avoid Cas’s face except when he was drawing it, though, because the way he stared at Dean and the smile on his lips would be Dean’s undoing at this rate. He idly wondered if Cas had any idea of the effect he had on Dean. Maybe he would ask. Eventually. Possibly. Maybe.

He sketched Cas, his legs, his arms, the way the fabric of his boxers fell over his pelvis. He sketched the other man’s stomach, his abs, and chest, his smooth shoulders, the little freckle near his right nipple. He sketched his face and eyes and lips, his noes, and his wet hair. 

After about an hour, Dean was done. He lowered his sketch pad, set his pencil aside and smiled at Cas. “Alright, all finished.”

"Can I see?" Cas lifted himself up on his arm, but didn’t make any move to actually get up. So Dean stood, moved to the bed and crouched down. He handed the sketchpad over and watched Cas’s face as he looked at it. "Wow…"

"Yeah?"

"Yes," He nodded. "This is beautiful, Dean."

"I wouldn’t go that far."

"No one has ever sketched me before. You’re really talented."

"I just have a good model."

Cas looked up at him with one of those deep stares, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the way his lips parted slightly. 

"I… uh…" Dean licked his lips and looked down.

"You can sketch me again, if you want. Any time you wish." 

"That… thanks, Cas. I mean, that would definitely be convenient. And I’m not really complaining about the view."

"Is that so?" 

Dean heard the smirk in Cas’s voice and against his better judgement, he looked up, seeing that cocky look on Cas’s face. 

"Yeah, well, I mean, you’re uh… not bad to look at."

"That’s almost a relief."

"A relief? Why?" Dean’s brows furrowed together, confusion reigned dominant on his face now.

"I was starting to think you weren’t interested…"

"Interested in…?"

"Me." Cas said bluntly.

"Oh. OH. Interested… as in… If I… and you… Oh." Dean nodded slowly. "Well, uh, yeah. I mean, yes. I was. I am. Wow." He lifted a hand and covered his face. 

"Did you not realize?"

"How was I supposed to know?" Dean shrugged. "I mean, maybe you just really like laying around in the living room in your boxers. Playing guitar."

"Your favorite Led Zeppelin song."

"How do you know what my favorite song is?"

"Ah, let me clarify, laying around in the living room, in my boxers, playing my guitar, to the tune of the Led Zeppelin song you play more often than any other song by them, when you told me on day one that they are your favorite band."

"I thought it was just coincidence…" Dean shrugged, feeling oblivious now.

"It wasn’t." Cas lifted himself up on the bed and leaned forward, taking a chance and kissing Dean. It worked, and Dean kissed him back right away, pushing Cas back onto the bed. The both toppled over, with Cas on his back and Dean on top of him. The sketchpad fell to the floor, forgotten, as they made out. 

After staring at Cas’s lips for so long, now Dean could feel them, pressed against his own. They felt as soft and supple as they looked. He tasted Cas’s mouth, a bit minty, like toothpaste. Against the palm of his hand, he felt the slight scruff of Cas’s cheek, which the musician never seemed to bother shaving. He felt Cas’s toned body beneath him, hard abs slotted against his own, warm skin touching against Dean’s skin, where his shirt rode up. Cas’s hands, firm and strong, smoothed down his back, calloused fingertips tugged his shirt up further, then slipped beneath it. 

Cas felt good, he felt wonderful. The kiss was great, his hair was soft, his body was warm. His voice was smooth and dark as he let out little moans into the kiss. Cas bent a knee and pushed his leg up between Dean’s, their hips moved in circles as they rutted up against each other and panted into each other’s mouths. 

Dean pulled his mouth away from Cas’s and swallowed hard. “Do you think, that maybe we should go slow here…?”

Cas was breathing hard and opened his eyes to look into Dean’s. He blinked a few times, as if trying to catch up with what Dean just asked. “Sure…” He cleared his throat. “If you feel it’s right.”

Dean licked his lips and thought about it. “Yeah, um… No sex, not yet. But uh… more of this…” 

With a laugh, Cas nodded, “Works for me.” Then they were kissing again. It was dangerous, falling for your roommate, especially at the start of the year, but if it was a mistake, Dean decided that Cas was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> A kind of sort of a continuation of this fic can be found here: http://shellygurumi.tumblr.com/post/75858169172


End file.
